Desperate Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  Elizabeth backed away slightly. “How would you know that’s what’s wrong? I’m not sure what you are, mister, but I know you’re no doctor!”

  He grinned again, his teeth surprisingly straight and white. “Ma’am, out here you soon learn to do your own doctoring. Real doctors aren’t much handy, and if I can do something to help your pain right now, why wait? The pain will only get worse.”

  Elizabeth started to object, but he suddenly grabbed her left wrist and gave her arm a jerk. The surprising move brought a choking gasp and shocking pain that nearly caused Elizabeth to pass out. She bent over from the pain and Mitch grabbed her around the waist to support her.

  “Why did you do that?” Angry tears came to Elizabeth’s eyes. “I never said you could.”

  “Needed doing, that’s all. If I’d warned you, you would have kept resisting. It’s easier to set a bone or a bad sprain when the person is completely relaxed and unprepared.”

  “Well, right now I’m agreeing with some of the names those men called you,” Elizabeth fumed, fighting more tears.

  “Call me what you want. You’ll soon learn that things out here are a lot different than where you came from. I don’t know exactly where that is, but it sure as hell isn’t any place west of the Missouri River.” He led Elizabeth to the shade of a tall pine. “Sit down here. You’re bruised up pretty bad—could be hurt in other ways I don’t know of. I’ll take you to the doctor in Alder.”

  Elizabeth sat down on a flat rock, appreciating the shade. She hated to admit it, but her shoulder truly did feel a bit better. She met Mitch Brady’s eyes and looked him over. He was indeed tall, with shoulder-length sandy hair and a square jawline. His blue checkered shirt looked decently clean under the leather vest he wore over it, with the crossed cartridge belts over that. He was the picture of danger and had an air of outlaw about him, even though he’d just saved her from the same kind of men. “I know your name is Mitch Brady, but what are you doing here? Are you an outlaw, too?”

  Mitch removed his hat and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Some say I’m no better than one, and I guess I came close to that side of the road at one time, but the thought of jail or hanging at the end of a rope just doesn’t set well with me.” He nodded to her and grinned again. “I’m the local law in Alder.”

  “We told you he’s a damn vigilante!” one of the outlaws yelled out. “And he’s right—he ain’t any better than us. You saw him shoot our friend in the back! If you weren’t here, lady, we’d be hanging from the nearest tree already! Don’t trust that sonofabitch! Vigilantes is the lowest form of Montana justice, and more ruthless than any outlaw ever thought of bein’!”

  “My brothers will come after you for this, Mitch Brady!” the other warned. “You’ll regret this!”

  “You just remember what happened to Henry Plummer and his bunch because of their underhanded robberies. You know what happens when you try to rob a stagecoach and kill men doing it.”

  “Someday you will be the one at the end of a rope!” one of them answered.

  Elizabeth cringed, totally confused about this man who apparently meant to help her.

  “Don’t listen to those two,” Mitch told her. “They are Hugh Wiley and Jake Snyder—troublemakers who just went over the line. They’ll pay for it.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “What do we do now?” she asked. “Will you help me get to Alder?”

  Mitch crouched in front of her. “’Course I will. I have a couple of things to take care of here first, but I’ll get you there.” He squinted, studying her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. “And you know my name, but I don’t know yours. What the heck is a beautiful young woman like you doing, headed for a hellhole like Alder? You aren’t much more than a kid.”

  Elizabeth looked away. If this man truly was the law and apparently showed no mercy, she certainly didn’t want him knowing the truth about what brought her here. “My name is…” Emma… “Elizabeth…Elizabeth Wainright,” she answered, “and my reason for coming here is nobody’s business, including yours.”

  “Makes no difference to me.” Mitch rose, grimacing.

  Elizabeth noticed a growing bloodstain on his lower left side. “I’m so sorry! You’ve been shot! I’ve been so wrapped up in what just happened, I didn’t realize you could be badly wounded yourself. Can I do something?”

  He waved her off. “I’ll be all right. It’s just a flesh wound. You stay here and rest a minute.” He walked into the distance to bring back the team of horses that had broken loose from the stagecoach. They were still hitched together, and he tied the four of them to a wagon wheel. Elizabeth watched as with great effort he picked up the driver and shotgun one by one and slung their bodies over the backs of two horses. He rummaged around behind the driver’s seat then, finally pulling out a metal box. He held it up.

  “I reckon this is what you fellas were after,” he shouted to the outlaws. “This money is badly needed at the bank in Alder, and a lot of people there need it to keep their businesses going and food in their bellies.”

  Amid more curses and name-calling from the outlaws, Mitch tied the metal box to his horse. He returned to the coach and did some more searching, coming up with a leather mailbag and a gunnysack. He tied the mailbag to the stage team, and amid more curses he took another pair of handcuffs from his saddlebag and walked over to where the outlaws sat. He knelt down and added to their misery by cuffing their ankles to each other, then picked up their clothes and shoved them into the gunnysack. “Just making sure you two stay in your drawers,” he told them. He proceeded to add the gunnysack to the items tied to the team of horses.

  “You know who’s going to be the angriest about you two trying to steal that money?” he asked as he worked.

  The one called Hugh spit at him.

  Mitch rose. “All the men who visit the saloons, and that’s most of the town,” he continued. “How mad do you think those men will be, knowing you tried to steal the money saloon keepers need to buy more whiskey?” He shook his head. “Hell, I can’t think of a better reason to hang a man. The crime of withholding whiskey money is worse than jumping a claim or stealing a horse.”

  Elizabeth could only wonder at the remark. What a strange way of thinking men had out here. They hanged a man for stealing whiskey money? She watched as Mitch gathered his own horse and one of the outlaw’s horses. The others had run off. He brought the two horses over to Elizabeth.

  “Can you ride?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Only sidesaddle.”

  He towered over her, handing her the reins to one of the horses. “Well, out here you’ll have to learn to straddle a horse like a man.” Before she could take hold of the reins, he stepped back a little, looking her over again. “I have to say, ma’am, you’re the prettiest woman I’ve seen around these parts in a long time. Something about you just doesn’t fit out here, but I have to ask—might you be a, uh, lady of the evening, so to speak?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in dismay. Was that all the men out here thought about? “Certainly not! And I am already getting tired of answering that question.”

  He pushed his hat back. “Lady, you’re going to get asked again once you reach Alder, I guarantee it. You’d better be prepared for it.” He shook his head. “I have to say it’s a disappointment finding out you’re not here for that. I would have been your first customer, you can bet on that.”

  Elizabeth stomped away, her anger giving her strength. She used her right hand to untie and pull her bags from the top of the stage, now on its side. “I’d like to take my things with us,” she demanded, fighting tears of anger, pain, and plain old fear. She still wasn’t so sure she could trust Mitch Brady, whose size reminded her of another man, a brute and a murderer who would love to find her and take her back with him…or maybe kill her.

  Mitch walked up to her and took the bags. “Yes, ma’am.” He carried the thre
e bags, one small and two larger carpetbags, to the stage horses. Elizabeth tried to untie a small trunk she’d also brought with her, but the pain in her shoulder made her step away. Mitch came back to where she stood. “I’ll have that trunk brought to you when I send men back out here to get those two no-goods,” he told her. “I can’t tie anything more onto the horses.” Elizabeth noticed him cringe again, and when he turned away he stumbled slightly.

  “That’s it!” she told him, leaning down to pull up her dress slightly. With great difficulty thanks to the pain in her shoulder, she ripped away some of ruffles from her petticoats. “I’m tying something around that wound before you bleed to death. All I need is for you to pass out and leave me here lost in no-man’s-land.” Ruffles in hand, she walked closer. “Raise your arms,” she ordered. “This won’t be easy, with all these gun belts and weapons in the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mitch answered with a slight grin. “And if I should pass out, all you have to do is keep following this road north and you can’t help but get to Alder. There’s no other way in or out.”

  Elizabeth worked the cloth under the cartridge belts and wrapped his middle tightly. “I prefer not to finish this trip alone, after what happened here, although I’m not so sure I’ll be any safer with you.”

  Mitch grunted. “Hey, leave me some room to breathe.”

  Still angry, Elizabeth gave the cloth an extra yank, which caused her to gasp from her own pain. Ignoring Mitch’s soft chuckle, she tied off the strips. “There. I hope that will do until we get to Alder.” She looked up at him, suddenly self-conscious about how she must look, bruised and filthy, her hair coming undone, her dress torn and covered with blood from Spittin’ Joe, her hat gone. It seemed almost comical to realize she was still wearing gloves.

  The man who returned her gaze was disturbingly handsome, and she couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes—part humor, part concern, part admiration, and a hint of danger. How safe was she truly with a man who was so disappointed she wasn’t a whore? He’d shot down three men with no reservation, and the remaining two seemed to truly think he might hang them on the spot. She stepped back. “I’d like to get to Alder now and find a room and take a bath and feel human again,” she told him.

  “I wouldn’t mind the same for myself,” Mitch answered. He led her beside one of the horses. “You’d better let me help you up,” he told her. “You can’t pull yourself up with that bad shoulder. You’ll mess it up all over again.”

  Elizabeth put a foot in the stirrup and reached up with her right hand to grasp the saddle horn. It was too high for her, so Mitch grasped her about the waist, grunting as he lifted her into the saddle. Elizabeth was surprised at the strength she felt in the lift in spite of his injury. “It’s the same for you,” she said with true concern as she settled into the saddle and pulled her skirts down over her legs as best she could. “Helping me up here could have made you bleed even worse.”

  “I’ll make it,” he told her, looking a bit pale.

  “Mitch Brady, you dirty, low-down bastard!” Jake cursed. “You leavin’ us here all night? You’ll never get to Alder and back before dark! What if wolves come? Or a grizzly?”

  “You two should have thought of that before you tried to rob this stage,” Mitch told them. He managed to get on his own horse, then bent over and groaned. He straightened then and looked over at the cuffed outlaws. “If a grizzly comes and makes a meal out of you, it will just save us a hanging. Right now the best I can do is send some men back here soon as we get to Alder. I’ll be sure to send some of the town’s most avid whiskey drinkers. I just hope they save your hanging for a town picnic and don’t decide to do it right here. A hanging makes for right good entertainment.”

  “You’ll die for this, Brady!” Hugh growled.

  Mitch just shook his head and rode over to the stagecoach horses, taking up the lead reins. “Follow me, Miss Wainright.” He turned to look her over again. “Please at least tell me it is Miss and not Mrs.”

  Elizabeth raised her chin. “It’s Miss,” she answered. “And what about the two passengers? Are you going to leave their bodies here?”

  “Have to for now. The drivers were good friends and have family in Alder, so I’m obliged to take them with us. Even so, we’ll be lucky to get even these two back without the horses getting skittery. I’ll send men back with a wagon for the rest.”

  So matter-of-fact about death, Elizabeth thought.

  “How the hell old are you?” Mitch asked then. “You’re built like a woman, but I see a kid in those pretty green eyes.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “I’m twenty-two,” she answered firmly.

  Mitch grinned and shook his head. “Yeah, and I’m eighty.” His horse stepped sideways nervously, already catching the scent of dead bodies. “See what I mean about the horses?” Mitch clucked his tongue, then talked softly to the animal. “Keep lying, Miss Wainright,” he added to her, “if that’s even your name. Just about everybody in Alder lies about their past, their age, and their name.”

  Elizabeth wanted to hit him. “Do you lie about such things?”

  “Lady, I never lie. I’m twenty-five, I’m a worthless, no-good, murdering vigilante, and I’m real disappointed you’re a proper lady.” He met her gaze and grinned. “See? No lies.”

  Elizabeth rubbed at her aching head. “Please just get me to Alder before dark, if possible. I don’t want to spend the night alone with a complete stranger.”

  “Hell, I just saved you from a fate worse than death. Why on earth do you think I’d bring you any harm?”

  “Because you’re a man, plain and simple.”

  “And I’m about to fall off this horse. I sure as hell don’t have the energy or strength to mess with a feisty thing like you, but I wouldn’t even if I could. I don’t make a habit of hurting women.”

  Elizabeth caught a hint of anger in his words. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I just hurt everywhere and want to get someplace where I can rest and get some help.”

  Mitch nodded. “Well, I need the same, so let’s get ourselves to Alder.” He headed north on the narrow, rutted road, leading the stage horses with two dead men, Elizabeth’s bags, mail, a metal box full of money, and the outlaws’ clothes. Behind them lay five other dead bodies near two cuffed outlaws still cursing Mitch.

  Elizabeth followed, wondering what on earth she’d gotten herself into. It was becoming more and more clear that Alder, Montana, was not an inviting place for a proper young woman alone, especially one who was only eighteen. Still, it was better than what she’d left behind…but she couldn’t imagine that something as ugly as a hanging could actually be considered reason for a picnic!

  Three

  By the time they reached Alder, Elizabeth’s shoulder ached fiercely, and she could see Mitch wavering in his saddle as though he was about to fall off. People gathered in the streets to stare, mostly men who gawked at Elizabeth. She had no doubt what some of them were wondering about her, and she felt conspicuous in her torn, bloodstained dress, her hair fallen from its pins, and some of her lower legs showing from riding astride her horse rather than sidesaddle.

  She noticed one woman among the men who was dressed just like them, wearing denim pants that were too big for her and were gathered at the waist with a big belt. Was she a prospector also? Did women actually come out here for such things? Despite her reservations, Elizabeth couldn’t help thinking how much more practical pants would be in a place like this.

  Mitch straightened more when men began hooting and whistling at Elizabeth.

  “Hey, Mitch, whatcha got there?” an old-timer asked.

  “A respectable woman who needs a doctor,” Mitch answered. “Is Doc Wilson in?”

  A couple of men walked up to take the reins of Elizabeth’s horse, while another took Mitch’s. “He was there last I knew,” one of them told Mitch. “Tendin’ to Henry Fillmore. H
is horse kicked him.”

  Some of the men gathered around the team of horses Mitch led, lifting the heads of the dead bodies to see who they were.

  “It’s Billy Polk!” one yelled.

  “And Juno Martin!” another shouted.

  “Hey, Mitch, what happened?”

  “Stagecoach got robbed,” Mitch answered as more men led their horses down the street. “Two other passengers were killed. The woman here says they called themselves Spittin’ Joe and Whiskers. That’s all I know about them.”

  Elizabeth gawked at a town that was a startling contrast to New York City. Everything looked hastily built, and practically every establishment was a tavern. In the mix was a livery, a dry-goods store, an office with a lawyer sign hanging out front, what looked like some kind of excuse for a hotel, a feed store, a mining supply store, a bank, a jailhouse, more saloons, and finally the log building with a doctor sign out front.

  Several women gathered on the balcony of an adjoining saloon, all wearing dresses that revealed far too much bosom, a couple of them wearing just pantaloons and corsets.

  “Hey, Mitch,” one of them called down. “Need somebody to nurse you tonight?”

  Mitch looked up and grinned, tipping his hat. “Right now I’m too weak for your kind of nursing, Hildy.”

  The women screeched with laughter. Elizabeth looked away, embarrassed. Secretly she felt a bit terrified of what life was going to be like here for her. This place was unlike anything she’d ever witnessed. She wondered if there was one man in town who actually wore a proper suit, if there was a decent woman around she could befriend, and if the doctor was even a real doctor. It dawned on her then that if this doctor was going to look at her shoulder, he might ask her to remove the bodice of her dress.

  The necklace! She had to find a way to hide it someplace else without anyone knowing. Men tied the horses to hitching posts in front of the doctor’s office, and too many hands reached up to help Elizabeth off her horse. She heard Mitch answering a barrage of questions.